Too Cool to Bluff
by head's all empty
Summary: Dallas Winston is tough and hot-tempered, and resents new girl April Sullivan, who moves to Tulsa along with the mid-sixties early hippie movement. Their lifestyles couldn't contrast more, but they soon find themselves in a bond neither can understand.
1. Chapter 1

"Wait! Ponyboy!" startled Ponyboy as he struggled to fit the last of his books into his locker. He turned around. April Sullivan stood only a couple of feet away with her ever-present grin, holding a book across her chest.

April Sullivan was the newest girl in Ponyboy's history class, having just moved from California. Ponyboy hadn't heard much about California, but when it came up, all he thought of were movie stars and hippies. He wasn't exactly sure what a hippie _was_ but he knew enough to guess that April was one of them. She was cheerful and friendly and wore her long brown hair down, unlike most of the girls at school. She seemed to care less for sweaters and skirts and instead often sported suede jackets and flowery headbands. April was certainly different, but Pony liked her.

"Hey April." He smiled, shutting his locker and facing her.

"Where ya live, Pony?" She asked. "I was thinking we could walk home together, you know?"

"Over on North Saint Louis, it's not so far." He answered, gesturing behind him.

"I'm around there! Do you mind?" She asked courteously.

"'Course not."

* * *

"What's it like in California?" Ponyboy inquired as they approached his house.

"Oh, it's real nice. Warm, I guess. My school wasn't so divided, like this, you know?"

"Whaddya mean?" He wondered, confused.

"Like that whole "greaser-Soc" thing. We had some of that, but not as much. I wish it wasn't like that; it really doesn't have to be. Why can't we all just get along?"

Pony shrugged. He didn't really wish to admit it, but he understood exactly. "Yeah, sometimes I feel like that, too. But that's just the way it is and I doubt it'll ever change."

April sighed.

"Well, this is it." Ponyboy stopped at the gate.

"Pony!" Sodapop came running down the steps, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Hey Soda, you off early?"

Soda leaned against the fence. "Yep, came out here to great ya, ain't that nice?" He gave Pony a friendly punch to the arm.

Just then, Dallas appeared from on the porch, an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

"Ain't you gonna introduce me to your friend, Pony?" Sodapop smirked.

"Oh, yeah." Pony suddenly remembered. "This is April, she just moved from California. April, this is my big brother Sodapop."

April smiled and waved at Soda. "Nice to meet you. You sure have some nice names in your family." She giggled. "Well I gotta go, nice to meet you. See you tomorrow, Pony."

As soon as she was out of hearing, Soda raised an eyebrow at Ponyboy, smiling smugly.

"Ah, cut it out, Soda." Pony griped as he opened the tattered gate and passed through. "She's just a friend."

"Always just a friend, Ponyboy." Soda rolled his eyes as they walked up to the porch side by side.

Dallas was standing there, his now-lit cigarette pressed between his lips, staring down at Pony. "Who the fuck was that?"

Ponyboy almost rolled his eyes, but knew better. Dallas always had something to say about who Pony hung around, as it were just as much his business as Pony's. "Just a friend from school, Dal."

"Friend?" Dallas scowled. "Man, why you hanging around those fuckin' hippies?"

"So what? Why does it matter? At least she ain't a Soc."

"Fuckin' hippies, man. They been invading this side of town for the past year now. Bunch of junkies, man. Bunch of smart-ass junkies."

Ponyboy walked right past Dallas and opened the front door, sighing as he did so. "April ain't like that. She's real nice."

"C'mon Dal, if Pony wants to hang out with a girl let him hang out with a girl." Soda defended his younger brother, following him into the house.

"Just watch. Next thing you know, the kid'll be living in one of 'em abandoned houses with a bunch a' long-haired fuckers." Dallas flicked his cigarette past the porch and jumped off it.

"Where ya goin' Dal?" Soda paused in the doorway and faced Dallas.

"Headin' out. Find some broad at Buck's, maybe." Dallas yelled from the front lawn, before he hopped the front gate and sauntered down the block.


	2. When the Dealing Gets Rough

**Disclaimer: I do not own "The Outsiders" by S.E. Hinton or "Scarlet Begonias" by the lovely Grateful Dead. **

**(Sorry, I completely missed that before). Note- For those who are wondering, the plot is actually somewhat historically accurate. The hippie movement started in 1960 and actually began to spread in 65, when the book takes place. However, I'm sure it wasn't nearly as prominent at that time in Oklahoma as it may have been in other states, but that's when we use our imaginations ;). **

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Dallas opened the Curtis refrigerator and peered in, hoping to find at least a beer. He found no sign of alcoholic beverage and opted for a carton of milk instead, leaning against the fridge and tipping it back in his mouth.

"That's gross, man," criticized Darry as he strolled past. He folded the newspaper that lay scattered across the breakfast table and looked up at the clock. "Pony home yet?"

Dallas was standing vacantly by the fridge, thinking about evidently nothing.

"Dally?" Darry repeated in an effort to gain his attention.

"What?" Dallas shook himself out of his absent state. He'd been kept up all night with all the ruckus at Buck's, after a long day of riding. "I don't know. I ain't his keeper," he finally answered with new irritation.

Two-Bit lay sprawled across the couch, watching something on the television, on the verge of falling asleep.

The front door opened and Ponyboy entered, carrying an arms-full of books. He laughed about something and turned to who was immediately following him, April. She too was struggling to carry a number of textbooks, yet smiling as always.

"You live here with your brothers, huh?" she surveyed the room, nodding her head.

"Sure do. Lived here my whole life," Pony remarked proudly, leading her to the kitchen.

"That's real cool. I've never lived in one place for more than two years," April said, but without the hint of sadness that would've been expected. She'd moved around California her whole life. Her mother wasn't terribly stable and her father had been gone by the time she was born, which was only typical amongst the people she knew.

They entered the kitchen and dropped their books on the table.

Dallas spied April as soon as she walked in from his position by the fridge and clenched his fists. She looked just like the rest of them, the ones he'd seen hanging around by the bigger deserted houses. The men with excessive facial hair and hair longer than some of the girls' at Buck's, and the women with their vests and stupid headbands. They disgusted him; he despised them, almost as much as the Socs.

When he spotted April, he spat, "What the fuck?"

Both her and Ponyboy were interrupted from their light-hearted conversation and looked up.

"Dally," Ponyboy said cautiously. "April's here just to work on a school project with me."

Dallas eyed April hatefully. She attempted a friendly smile, but when she noticed his vicious glare, it vanished.

"Hi," she tried to sound happy, but her words came shaky. "I'm April Sullivan. I'm just a friend of Ponyboy; he was nice en-" Dallas interrupted.

Gripping the carton of milk in his firm hand, he snapped, "You a pusher?"

April looked taken aback. "Um, no, uh," she stammered. "What?"

Ponyboy could've killed Dallas right there. What was he doing, barging in and interrogating his guests?

"Simple question, are you a fucking drug pusher?" Dallas clarified aggressively.

"Alright, Dal, c'mon now. Just cut it out already," Ponyboy attempted to reason with Dallas.

April felt a sudden annoyance at this boy Dallas. She'd been judged by just about everybody since she had arrived in Tulsa, and she didn't care for it one bit.

She stood up a little straighter, setting her eyes on Dallas. Ponyboy was surprised to see her constant smile gone and, in its place, her lips pursed in an angry straight line.

"You know, just because I'm different than you it doesn't give you any right to make assumptions about me," she blurted sternly.

Dallas couldn't help but look surprised. His jaw hung slightly dropped and he stared back at her.

"I know you; you judge all of us, people just like me," she continued, her arms now crossed firmly across her chest. "God, hasn't it crossed your mind that, maybe, we choose to be the way we are because we hate that. That stupid, stupid behavior of treating everybody who's different like shit!"

Dallas scowled at her, even more shocked than before. _Who the fuck does this dumb broad think she is, comin' in her and getting all hacked off at me, Dallas Winston?_

April stared at him expectantly. When he made no response, she swooped up her books and fled, apologizing to Pony as she stormed out through the front door.

Ponyboy looked back at Dallas. "Thanks a lot, Dal," he grumbled and ran after April.

"April!" he called through breaths when he reached the porch.

April stopped at the gate and looked back at Ponyboy, a angry and hurt look leftover on her face. Pony sprinted down the steps and ran to meet her.

She looked impatient but, at the same time, apologetic.

"I'm real sorry," Pony huffed. "Dally–well, he's just like that. He's…hot-headed, ya dig?"

April snickered a little. "Yeah, I figured. He's just not used to a lot of opposition, I guess."

Pony smiled and nodded sheepishly. "'Specially from girls."

She looked down and sighed. "Well, I oughta' head home."

"Look, really, I'm real sorry. I'll make sure Dal stays away from you from now on."

She shook her head and smiled reassuringly. "No, Pony, it's not your fault. I don't usually yell like that, I'm sorry."

"Hey, you did what you had to," Pony said. "Takes a lot a' guts to stand up to ole' Dallas like that."

She grinned. "See you tomorrow, Pony."

April strolled towards her home, humming softly to herself, trying to shake off her previous anger. She'd felt awful about getting so riled up in front of Pony's friend like that, but part of her knew that Dallas deserved it. She certainly had seen Dallas around town once or twice, often when she was traveling with her other friends. Dallas and a bunch of angry-faced boys hung around the drug store parking lot pretty often, and they had a habit of harassing April and her friends as they passed. Lately, that prejudice this town was so filled with had really struck a nerve with her.

A few of hands waved to her in the distance from a street curb. She squinted to make them out, and when she finally approached she saw that it was Keith and Deborah. Deborah sat on the curb leaning back and looking up at the sky, her arms propping her up and Keith sat cross-legged next to her, holding a bottle of Coke.

"April, where ya' been?" Keith beamed, motioning her over.

She propped next to Deborah, mimicking Keith's Indian-style position.

"Friend's house," she answered, taking a swig of the Coke Keith had offered her.

"Sure is a nice day," Deborah remarked, watching the clouds move in a daze. Deborah was about the same age as Keith, about three or four years older than April. Her hair was blonde and longer than April's, falling nicely over her shoulders and down to the small of her back. Her hands were decorated with a variety of rings and bracelets. April had met her first when she'd moved to Tulsa.

Keith chuckled and jerked a thumb at Deb, "Girl's been tripping out for almost two days now."

It was obvious then to April, who observed Deborah's blank stare. She let out a breath and looked forward. "Shouldn't do that out here," she warned. "Gives people a right to say stuff 'bout us."

"Man, who gives a shit?" Keith shook his head in distaste. "People wanna talk, let 'em talk."

"Yeah, man. We do what we want," Deborah said drowsily.

April fingered the icy glass bottle absently, thinking silently to herself.

* * *

**Not as much Dallas as you might have hope, I apologize, but I promise it'll really start picking up soon. P.S. Thanks a lot for the super helpful critique, you just made me slightly less retarded.**


End file.
